


Your Mileage May Vary

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Probably don't read if you're a Milah fan, This is supposed to be funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: A prompt from Straggletag. It's Neal's wedding and Milah's rest is disturbed by the couple in the hotel room next door.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From [this](http://endangeredslug.tumblr.com/post/154843481823/thestraggletag-endangeredslug) post on Tumblr.

 

 

 

It was funny the first night.

Milah and Killian had kissed each other and fell in bed, exhausted after an emotionally and mentally draining day of meeting her son’s fiance and future in-laws for the first time.

It was a whirlwind of introductions, small talk, cocktails, and then a dinner in an upscale restaurant she had no intention of paying for. Then there was the fact that she was unceremoniously pulled aside by Neal before hors d'oeuvres were through only to be told in a harsh whisper to control her husband. It was preposterous. Killian would never make a scene as long as he kept his drinking down to a minimum. As long as she kept the rum away, Killian would be as charming as a kitten so the admonition was really just insulting. Still, she agreed to babysit her husband on top of all the other duties she had to perform as mother of the groom. That those duties were show up and be nice was completely beside the point. She would do it for her son and get blindingly drunk another time.

On top of all that, she had to put up with her ex-husband doing his pathetic hovering around the fringes as he always did. Alone. Unwanted. Only tolerated for his money though Neal seemed to have an inexplicable soft spot for his father. She never understood it, but she could finally admit that their son had always been a better person than either herself or his father. Must have been some latent gene working its way to the front of the DNA line.

His fiance seemed a handful. The sheriff of a small town in Maine, Emma was a no nonsense woman with a sharp look to her eye as if she saw right through people’s bullshit and was only seconds away from arresting you. Needless to say, she set Killian on edge so Milah spent half the time managing him as much as trying to please Neal.

Milah spent the day being pleasant and affable and ready to do whatever it took to help make Neal’s wedding go off without a hitch and she was ready to scream from the Herculean effort it was taking.

Only the glimpse of Ralph sitting by his lonesome, glancing at his phone every few minutes in the attempt to pretend to look for that phantom text that would never come cheered her up. She hated that part of herself that reveled in his misery, but it was something that she couldn’t help and she only saw the man once every decade or so. And it was natural to gloat a bit when you found yourself in a better position than your ex. She was sure of it.

Their meeting was short and barely cordial. He barely glanced up from his phone when she and Killian approached him (and she had been sure to pack only outfits that would show how well she had aged. Nothing outrageous, but very expensive, very well made, and just enough skin showing to remind everyone that she was still desireable). Ralph was in one of his stodgy suits again. Impeccable as always, the man could afford the world and it showed, but it seemed the man wore nothing else, ever. Predictable. Boring. Stupidly existing where no one else wanted him.

_Best get it all over and done with_ , she thought as she sauntered over to where he was loitering. A polite hello and then she’d be rid of him for the rest of the night.

“Good evening, Ralph,” she said with a wide smile, her hand wrapped around Killian’s arm, to tug him closer in a show of affection. “All alone I see,” she couldn’t help but observe with a quick glance around as if she expected a woman to suddenly pop out of the potted plant in the corner.

Ralph looked up at her quickly, confusion flitting across his face before it was brought under tight control again and he smirked, actually smirked at her. “Actually, no. I brought Belle with me.”

Taken aback, Milah looked around for this Belle, but seeing no middle-aged pudding of a woman in the room that was positively filled to the brim with beautiful people, she turned back to her ex-husband and lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

“She’s not _here_ ,” he drawled, as if this Belle would never deign show her face in the banquet room of a five star restaurant. “Belle’s attending the Book Expo. It’s a bit like Disneyland for her. But she’ll be here later once her book signing is over,” he added proudly, seemingly unaware of how pathetic he sounded.

He still had that smirk on his face that she just wanted to bite off and spit out on top of his imported Italian shoes. She reigned herself in with effort, her smile brittle and ready to break into a harpy’s scream with the slightest provocation. Neal would never forgive her if she made a scene during his wedding festivities and, truth be told, she would be disappointed in herself, too. It wasn’t even something she could help, really. Gold just brought out the worst in her, always had, always will. However, she realized with a warm sense of shameful delight, she had been married to him for years and knew exactly which buttons to push. Discretely.

“You used to be a better liar than that, Ralph,” she sneered before whipping her hair over her shoulder and turning away. “You should have hired a girl, darling,” she called out over her shoulder before spending the rest of the evening pointedly ignoring him.

Now, in bed with Killian, her mind racing over the events of the day and only really just needing sleep, the people in the room next door chose that moment to get frisky.

It started with indistinct sounds which only got louder as time wore on, then a sharp banging against the wall once things really got going.

Killian looked over at her in amusement and waggled his eyebrows at her, but Milah just shook her head a bit, not feeling up to anything more than a quick fumble. He shrugged a bit, then put his hands behind his head to wait their neighbors out.

Waiting it out took longer than expected. The thumping ebbed and surged in an unpredictable pattern. Changing positions, Milah figured with the roll of her eyes. Every time the banging faded, she thought they were finished, but she was dead wrong as the banging grew louder again and again, now with heady moans and hoarse cries filtering through even the thick walls of the very chic and expensive hotel.

It had to be fake, she thought, beginning to feel annoyed that her sleep was being put off for someone else’s fucking. But Milah _knew_ fake and the breathless, indistinct cries of the woman in the next room were as real as they came and they listened with growing amazement as the minutes ticked on without respite. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the thumping turned into a frenzied pounding, the moans turned into triumphant cries, and their own bed was being jostled against the wall, knocking their heads against the headboard without the bonus of an orgasm to go with it. Rather unfair to be honest.

“Oh my god!” Milah mouthed to her husband, eyes wide when the sound of a lamp crashing to the floor came through when the tawdry show came to an end.

Killian let out a low whistle. “Whoever that is deserves a standing ovation.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day, Milah woke up with a headache she didn’t deserve and bags under her eyes that took almost an hour to get rid of. Killian had at least ordered room service, but as he seemed to have forgotten her new diet, everything was off limits except for the small bowl of overpriced fruit that came with his pancakes.

“Think they’ll like a four way?” Killian asked as he leaned back, one arm over the back of his chair and his legs spread out wide as if to show off his wares.

“What are you talking about,” she muttered as she looked for a spoon to stir the sweetener into her coffee.

“Next door. They seemed… into it.”

Milah’s head jerked up to see Killian’s looking at her like… _that_. Like he was ready to go hop on the tart bandwagon immediately. “Are you serious?” she hissed, ready to claw his eyes out if he even so much as suggested it in earnest.

He held up his hands in surrender. “‘Course not. Just a joke,” he said, eyes looking everywhere but at her face. “But you have to admit the idea is intriguing.”

Milah said nothing, but looked away as she sipped her coffee. The idea hadn’t crossed her mind before, but, now that Killian had brought it up, she would admit to feeling a bit _warm_ at the thought of being passionately fucked into oblivion. Things with Killian weren’t _bad_ , but they were routine. After so many years, she knew all his tricks and he hers. Maybe spicing things up would be an interesting endeavor. She hadn’t given it any thought the night before, but now that it was brought up, she imagined the couple to be young and fit and… able. Very able if the woman’s screams were anything to go by, she thought, squirming in her seat a little. They were probably beautiful and limber and fun and, maybe, open to the possibility of… openness.

Not that she would. Not during her son’s wedding week at any rate, but maybe they could accidentally bump into them in the lobby and make friends. It was good to have new friends, right? New friends who could bring new joy and happiness. She was sure she and Killian could teach them a thing or two as well.

They emerged from their room, both smiling and satisfied after a romp in the shower and the knowledge that they still had _it_. There was no sign of their neighbors when they finally emerged, but the wedding was still a day away. Plenty of time to scout them out.

They entered the lobby to wait for Neal and Emma and the rest of her family when she spotted Gold, head bent down as he stared at something in his hands. He was on that stupid phone again. Probably watching porn.

“Still no Belle, I take it?” she asked as she passed by his chair, deliberately bumping into his shoulder to wake him up. “Let me guess, she’s from Canada?” she added in an attempt to steer him off.

Gold looked up as if he didn’t hear them coming, the old faker. Like he hadn’t been watching for her to come out of the elevator so he could pretend to be busy with something else. He’d been glued to his phone the night before, fake texting the entire time, and it appears that he was going to play the same pathetic game again today.

“Australia actually,” he told them, absently. “And she’s speaking at a few panels today. One was scheduled a bit early.”

Milah rolled her eyes. “At this “book expo” thing?”

Gold tilted his head and stared at her. “You haven’t heard of it?”

She snorted and walked away. He knew very well that books didn’t interest her much and she didn’t appreciate his insistence that his fantasy girlfriend was important in the literary circles. It had long passed amusing and waltzed right into Boringsville.

The day zipped by with last minute fittings for the bride to which Milah was politely invited, a quick lunch at a quaint, but brilliant place by the park and now, after a brief nap, she found herself back in her room dressing for the rehearsal and dinner.

At least, she was supposed to be dressing. Instead she found herself sitting stiffly in a chair while she listened to her neighbors fuck like beasts.

Not content with making the headboard on _her_ side of the wall rattle, she had the distinct pleasure of watching the glass of water on the bedside table positively _ripple_ from the disturbance.

Maybe, she thought with no little resentment. They were dinosaurs. They were certainly screeching like a flock of pterodactyls.

Now in a sour mood, she pulled her very much not a mother of the groom dress over her head and smoothed it out over her hips. At least her neighbors would be too tired for a repeat performance when she and Killian made it back to bed and they could repay the favor of a sleepless night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She was waiting them out, her arms stubbornly crossed over her chest as Killian stormed out of the room, annoyed at her unwillingness to turn the tables on the pair in the next room, listening — again! — to the crazy pounding and cries and yelling and oh _god_ , was the woman _sobbing_? Was he that good? _Really_? Nothing was that good. It was impossible.

She rubbed her thighs against each other despite herself. Eavesdropping over someone else’s sex life was wrong, and she knew it, but she was beyond caring at this point. She exerted everything in her to try to distinguish voices, but the walls were too thick for anything other than the occasional “Yes!” and some choice filthy words to filter through. Not thick enough to muffle the moans, though and she buried her face in her hands when they began in earnest. The man had incredible stamina while _she_ , the mysterious woman, was graced with the ability for multiple orgasms that should have made the record books.

Crap, she wished she thought of timing it.

She thought about calling Killian back and join in in a two room sort of orgy, but his sullen attitude had annoyed her too much to get her rockets firing so she decided to stay put, listen in, and try to figure out who they were.

Emma’s family had reserved a block of rooms in advance and Milah knew that they had two floors dedicated to the wedding guests. Her loud and oversexed neighbors had to be guests, but she didn’t know any of Neal’s friends well enough to be able to distinguish the muffled voices. She’d have to either catch them coming out of their room or mingle like crazy at the reception to figure who they were.

At last, after a ridiculous amount of time, they had fucked themselves into exhaustion and Milah was allowed to go to sleep. Except she couldn’t rest. She was too horny and too curious and too annoyed to do anything except stare at her ceiling in irritation. The horny part she could at least take care of herself and with a few flicks of her fingers and a bit of judicious imagination involving a certain faceless couple, she worked her way through her difficulties and drifted off to sleep, her hand still sticky with her efforts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The wedding was scheduled to take place at one, but she was expected to be there early so Emma and her mother and the bridesmaids and herself could get ready together. It sounded positively horrid, but she _promised_ Neal and, while she wasn’t the world’s best parent, she could do that much.

Which was why she was spitting angry at herself when she awoke hours after her scheduled hair appointment, too late to offer any reasonable excuse to Emma for being absent. She would have to get ready in her room, alone since Killian was now MIA, find out where the church was, hire a taxi, and bolt for it. There was just enough time to shower and do her hair.

She resented everything as she dragged the flat iron through her hair. The wedding, the idiots next door, her husband and his habit of pouting when he didn’t get his way. Why couldn’t Neal just elope like normal people did anyway? Who needed a big show? What a stupid waste.

The bags under her eyes were hideous, but she had a bag of makeup tricks up her sleeve and no one would be the wiser by the time she got through. It took longer than she liked as she kept dropping brushes and she ruined her favorite palette by fumbling it and dropping it into the sink where it all broke into bits.

The dress was another matter. In the store, it looked sleek and beautiful, but now, in the full light of day it practically screamed matronly, but it was too late to try to get another one. She would just make sure to never, ever look at the wedding pictures.

She hastily texted her husband while trying to put on her slingback heels, _Where r u??11?_

Then waited for his reply which came three minutes later, _downstairs babe._

“Babe,” she grumbled to herself as she put in her earrings. _That fucker_!

She glanced at the clock and took a deep breath. She’d missed all the pre-wedding activities, but there was still plenty of time to make it to the church. She would feign a migraine and that he couldn‘t possibly be expected to do anything before noon. What with the excruciating pain and all.

Finally, with a final check to make sure she had everything and that she looked as amazing as she could, she squared her shoulders and prepared to fake her way through the day. Only the thought of her ex-husband sitting by himself without his pretend girlfriend by his side brought a smile to her face. Well, that and the thought of her wonderful son finding his happily ever after of course. Of course that was the best part.

She began humming to herself as she opened the door, a little kick to her step now that she remembered that rock bottom was solely occupied by her ex, when the man himself, that object of her derision, blithely walked out of the room next door just on the heels of a stunning woman dressed in a gorgeous blue gown that exposed more leg than should be allowed in a church. The sight of the two of them had Milah’s brain simply pack up and walk out on strike.

“What were you doing in that room?” she sputtered, knowing how ridiculous she looked and unable to do anything about it and hating everything she was for that one, tiny moment.

Gold looked up, startled by her presence, a thing that was becoming quite a habit come to think of it. He stepped out of his room fully and shut the door with a ‘snick’.

“It’s our room,” he said simply. Then his eyes flit over to her door and understanding dawned on him. “You’re next door? That’s a bit awkward,” he said, looking at the woman next to him sheepishly. “But now at last you get to meet Belle,” he said, as if he was pleased they met in the hallway like this.

Milah’s eyes dropped and dropped and dropped to the other woman — way too short if you asked her — and then her brain decided to send its regrets that it would be away indefinitely.

Belle was young. Way young. And beautiful. And, and _young_ and, apparently, actually smart and had written a book that had words and was asked to sit on panels to discuss those words in the book she published. It was at that precise moment when Milah’s temporary shock subsided just in time for her memory to doubletap her in the head. She remembered quite clearly that she’d masturbated herself to sleep after listening in on their lovemaking the night before. Her ex-husband and his…. Milah looked down at Belle again…  sweet, young thing. How utterly and one hundred percent revolting.

And disappointing.

Belle had her hand out expectantly and Milah found herself shaking hands and making the stupidest of small talk with this woman who was blessed with the lungs of a yeti, her resentment growing tenfold when she realized that she’d been fantasizing about _ex-husband_ for nearly three days. _Ralph_ of all the men in the world. It was humiliating and embarrassing and all she wanted now was a drink and the next train out of town.

But first she had to get through this wretched wedding.

They all rode the elevator down together because why not make her day that much worse? She silently stared at her reflection as Gold and this Belle talked softly about her panels the day before, her ex-husband showing an interest in his girlfriend’s day that would have been sweet if Milah could just forget about everything that had happened the night before. Or the night before that. And the afternoon in between.

She shuddered as the doors opened and was pleased to find that at least her husband was attentive enough to meet her at the elevators.

Killian took one look at her and made a face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” was the kindest thing he said, but Milah couldn’t refute that. She had seen a ghost. The Ghost of Orgasms Past and she wanted to erase it from her memory.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him across the lobby to the waiting taxi. “I don’t even want to talk about it.”


End file.
